The wind had picked up as the sun dipped low behind the crumbling skyline, painting the sky in hues of orange and pink. The small settlement of Fort Saint John, nestled in the shadows of the northern territory, seemed quieter than usual. The distant thrum of magic engines or steam furnaces and the low hum of chatter were the only sounds that reminded Sarah of the fragile world they now lived in.

  Sarah and Oliver now lived on the top floor of the hospital, a former suite that they had slowly transformed into a home and workspace. The wide windows, though cracked and clouded with age, offered a panoramic view of the sprawling, battered city below. The walls, once sterile white, were now lined with shelves made from repurposed wood, filled with books, tools, and jars of salvaged supplies. A mismatched rug covered part of the scuffed linoleum floor, and a corner of the room was sectioned off with hanging fabric, creating a small sleeping area. The scent of old antiseptic lingered faintly, mingling with the warmth of a small, makeshift stove they had rigged from salvaged parts. Sitting by the window, Sarah worked quietly, mending a torn piece of fabric, the needle flickering in the fading afternoon light.

  It had been days since she had last seen Oliver, and though she knew the danger outside the walls was ever-present, she couldn’t shake the gnawing worry deep in her gut. The baby stirred softly in the makeshift crib by the wall, a fragile reminder of everything they were fighting to protect. A patchwork of blankets and old hospital linens cradled the tiny figure, her soft, rhythmic breathing the only sound breaking the silence of the room. Sarah’s gaze drifted to the crib, her heart tightening. She couldn’t help but think of all the promises she had made—to keep her safe, to make this place home, to hold on no matter how hard things became. But with each passing day, the weight of those promises grew heavier.

  Suddenly, the silence was broken by the sound of heavy footsteps outside her door. Sarah’s heart leaped in her chest, and she rose to her feet, dropping the fabric as she turned toward the sound. Her pulse quickened, every nerve on edge, as she instinctively glanced at the crib to ensure the baby was still undisturbed.

  The door creaked open, and a familiar figure stepped in—a nurse from the lower floors, her face lined with exhaustion but determined.

  “Sorry to bother you,” the nurse began, her voice low but steady. “I wanted to give you an update on the supplies we inventoried this morning. We’ve got enough bandages and antiseptic for now, but we’re running dangerously low on antibiotics.” She hesitated, then added, “And... do you know when the next council meeting is happening? People are starting to ask questions, especially with these goblin raids getting worse.”

  Sarah exhaled slowly, letting her hand fall from where it had hovered near her knife belt. She forced a calm expression, though the mention of supplies—and the growing tension in the city—only deepened the unease already gnawing at her. “I’ll bring it up with Oliver as soon as he’s back,” she said firmly. “For now, we’ll make do. And tell the others to stay vigilant—there’s no guarantee the walls will hold forever.”

  The nurse nodded, her lips pressing into a thin line and as the nurse turned to leave, heavy footsteps echoed again in the hallway. Before Sarah could process the sound, Oliver appeared in the doorway behind her, his frame filling the entrance. He looked worse for wear—his clothes smeared with dirt and blood, his left arm wrapped hastily in a strip of cloth that was already darkening with fresh crimson. His usually sharp eyes were clouded with fatigue, but they softened the moment they landed on Sarah and the baby, Erin.

  “Oliver.”

  Her breath caught when she saw him.

  "Oliver!" Sarah’s voice was a mix of relief and worry as she hurried to him. “What happened?”

  Oliver gave her a faint smile, though it faltered quickly. “Ran into trouble near the outer perimeter. A goblin attack force—small group this time, but they’re getting bolder. Got a little too close.” He gestured toward his injured arm. “It’s not as bad as it looks.”

  “Why didn’t you use your card?” Sarah’s gaze lingered on the wound, her fingers already moving toward the bandages on a nearby shelf. “Sit down,” she ordered, her tone leaving no room for argument. “Let me take care of it.”

  “I ran out of mana saving a young boy who took a spear hit,” he said and obeyed, sinking into the closest chair with a grunt. He glanced toward the crib, his expression softening further as he saw their daughter sleeping peacefully. “At least she’s safe,” he murmured. “That’s all that matters.”

  Sarah’s hands worked quickly, cleaning and wrapping the wound, but her mind raced with unspoken fears. “How much longer can we hold them off, Oliver?” she asked quietly, her voice barely above a whisper.

  He met her eyes, his jaw tightening. “As long as we have to,” he said, the determination in his tone masking the exhaustion etched into his face. “We don’t have a choice.”

  “What happened? First those demon-looking monsters, and that strange man,” she demanded, her voice trembling with a mix of fear and concern. “Now, these goblins... did they breach the city’s boundary?”

  “I know, but it is okay, like I said, we handled it.” Oliver nodded weakly, his gaze flickering with exhaustion. “They came in force... caught us off guard. There’s more of them than we thought... and they’re getting smarter.” His breath was shallow and laboured, and he leaned against her for support, his eyes beginning to droop.

  She ran a hand through her hair, her mind racing. The city’s defences were no match for the goblins’ increasing numbers. If this was what they were up against now, what would tomorrow look like?

  “Where’s the rest of your team?” she asked, trying to keep her voice steady as she rummaged through a medical kit.

  Oliver’s eyes flickered, and he shifted uncomfortably on the couch. “A few are dead,” he said, “But I saved that kid.” However, he continued simply, his voice heavy with defeat. “The goblins... they were relentless. We fought as long as we could, but... they... they got to the others. I couldn’t save them.”

  This tale has been unlawfully lifted from Royal Road. If you spot it on Amazon, please report it.

  Tears welled up in Sarah’s eyes, but she forced them back. She wasn’t going to break in front of him—not now. “You’re going to be alright, Oliver,” she said firmly, though doubt gnawed at her insides. She wasn’t sure if she was trying to convince him or herself.

  Oliver smiled faintly, his gaze softening as he reached out with his good hand to grasp hers. “I’m not sure about that... but we’ve fought before, right? We’ll fight again.” His voice was thick with exhaustion, but there was a trace of his old resolve in it.

  Sarah clenched her jaw, nodding. She wasn’t going to let him down. She wasn’t going to let anyone else down. Not again.

  “Rest now,” she said, wiping the blood from his forehead with a damp cloth. “I’ll patch you up. We’ll figure this out together. I’m not letting this city fall.”

  Oliver closed his eyes, his breath still ragged but calming as he relaxed on the couch. “Just... keep us alive, Sarah... until Joel gets back...”

  The words lingered in the air between them, unspoken but understood. The world was falling apart, piece by piece. And if they didn’t find a way to stop the goblins—and whatever else was lurking beyond the city’s boundaries—their fight would be over before it even started. But Sarah wasn’t about to let that happen. Not while she still had breath in her body.

  As Sarah finished wrapping his arm, her movements grew sharper, her tension finally boiling over. She slammed the roll of bandages onto the nearby table and whirled around to face Oliver, her eyes blazing.

  “You need to face facts, Oliver,” she snapped, her voice trembling with emotion. “Joel is dead. If men are dying outside the city walls—soldiers, people armed to the teeth—what chance did he have? Travelling hundreds and hundreds of kilometres? Through the mountains? Past Chetwynd?” Her voice cracked, but she pressed on, the dam of her grief breaking. “He’s gone, Oliver. You have to stop clinging to this idea that he’s out there. We need to focus on what’s here. On what we still have.”

  Oliver’s jaw tightened, and he rose from the chair, towering over her, but his voice was quiet, almost too calm. “I can’t do that, Sarah.”

  “You have to,” she fired back, her hands clenched into fists at her sides. “Do you think I don’t want to believe he’s alive? That I don’t lie awake at night imagining he’ll come walking through that door? But this—this hope of yours—it’s eating you alive. It’s making you reckless, and it’s going to get you killed.”

  Oliver’s gaze softened, the fight in him ebbing under the weight of her words. He turned his head toward the crib, watching their daughter stir slightly in her sleep. “I can’t give up on him,” he said quietly, his voice barely above a whisper. “I won’t. Joel’s out there, Sarah. I can feel it.”

  Sarah shook her head, tears brimming in her eyes. “You’re going to get yourself killed chasing a ghost, and then what? What happens to me? To her?” She gestured toward the baby, her voice breaking completely. “You’re all she has, Oliver. We’re all that’s left of him. You have to let go.”

  The silence that followed was thick, and heavy with unspoken pain. Oliver reached out, placing a hand on her shoulder, but she stepped back, her shoulders sagging under the weight of her frustration and sorrow.

  “Just... think about it,” she murmured, turning away to busy herself with tidying up the supplies. “Before it’s too late.”

  The silence lingered between them, thick and suffocating. Oliver stood frozen, his hand still outstretched toward Sarah as she turned her back to him. He could see her shoulders trembling, her grief and exhaustion finally cracking through the strong facade she always tried to maintain.

  “Sarah…” he said softly, stepping closer.

  She didn’t respond, her hands gripping the edge of the bed so tightly her knuckles turned white. “I don’t want to lose you too,” she whispered, her voice barely audible. “I can’t. Not after everything.”

  Oliver hesitated, his own emotions swirling in a storm he could barely contain. Then, with a resolve that felt like a lifeline, he closed the distance between them, gently placing his hands on her arms. “You won’t,” he said firmly. “I promise you, Sarah. I’m not going anywhere.”

  She let out a shaky breath, finally turning to face him. Her eyes were red-rimmed, tears clinging to her lashes, but there was a fire there too—a determination that matched his own.

  “You can’t promise that,” she said, her voice wavering. “Not out there. Not with how things are. None of us can.”

  “I know,” Oliver admitted, his voice low but steady. “But I’m still here. Right now, I’m here. And I love you, Sarah. Just like I love Joel. I always will, in this messed-up world. You are right, this family is all we have left now. I will always care about you. That’s the one thing I can promise.”

  Her breath hitched, and before she could think of a response, Oliver leaned in. The kiss was slow and tender, a moment of stillness in the chaos that surrounded them. Sarah melted into him, her hands finding their way to his chest as the weight of her fears eased just slightly.

  When they finally pulled apart, their foreheads rested together, breaths mingling as they stood in the fragile quiet of their makeshift home.

  “We’ll figure it out,” Oliver murmured, his thumb brushing against her cheek. “Together. For her.” He glanced toward the crib, where their daughter slept, blissfully unaware of the burdens her parents carried.

  Sarah nodded, her fingers tightening around the fabric of his shirt. “Together,” she repeated, her voice steadier now. But deep down, the worry still gnawed at her. Because in their world, promises were fragile things—and even love wasn’t always enough to keep them safe.

  They kissed again, and it deepened, urgency replacing the initial tenderness. Oliver's hands, strong and calloused, moved to her waist, pulling her closer. Sarah arched into him, her lips parting slightly as he deepened the kiss, his tongue tracing the seam of her teeth. It was a desperate kiss, a desperate need to feel something real, something solid in the face of the ever-present fear.

  He tasted like smoke and sweat, the scent of the outside world clinging to him, a stark reminder of the danger that lurked just beyond their walls. Yet, at this moment, it was all Sarah could focus on, the feel of his lips against hers, the way his body moulded perfectly to hers.

  He groaned, his hands tightening around her, and Sarah felt a surge of heat spread through her. It was a dangerous kind of heat, a defiance against the cold, bleak world that tried to consume them. For a fleeting moment, they were lost in the sensation, the fear forgotten, replaced by a primal need.

  Oliver pulled back, his eyes dark and intense, a flicker of something raw and untamed burning within them. He leaned down and whispered against her lips, "We'll fight for this, Sarah. For us. For her."

  Sarah's breath hitched. "We will," she whispered back, her voice hoarse.

  He kissed her again, a fierce, possessive kiss that left her breathless. Then, as quickly as it began, it was over. He pulled back, his eyes filled with a mixture of longing and regret. "We should get some sleep," he said, his voice rough.

  Sarah nodded, her heart pounding in her chest. She knew that this was just a taste, a forbidden fruit in a world where pleasure was a luxury they could no longer afford. But it was enough, for now. It was a reminder that even in the face of despair, there was still beauty, still passion, still love.

  And that, in this desolate world, was something to cling to.